


Emulation

by LadyDrace



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Minor Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Minor Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Robot Feels, Stark Tower, Tony Stark Feels, Tony's robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 20:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10929492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: Tiny little robots begin popping up everywhere in Stark Tower.





	Emulation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mithrel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/gifts).



> So. I found this fic tucked away in my folders with ZERO memory of when I wrote it. It was labeled as a Christmas present for Mithrel, and she at least could confirm having recieved it, though neither of us can remember when. 
> 
> So I have no idea where this fic came from, really, or why I never posted it anywhere.
> 
> In any case, I fixed a few small mistakes and cleaned it up a little, and now I'm posting it.
> 
> Oh, and the Avengers live in Stark Tower. Shh, just go with it.

“Tony, what's that?”

 

Without looking up from his phone, Tony huffs. “It's a coffee machine, Steve. I've seen you use it before, don't regress on me now, big guy.”

 

“No, I mean _that_.”

 

Tony finally looks up to see a tiny, almost bug-like transistor-based robot making its way slowly towards the coffee maker. Its spindly legs can barely support it, and it wobbles precariously, but it doesn't stop. It keeps wobbling until one of the tiny wire-appendages sticking out from what Tony presumes is the head touches the coffee maker. Then it changes direction towards the edge of the table, and Steve holds out a hand to catch it before it falls to the floor.

 

“Well, it looks like something I would build in my sleep. So I probably did,” Tony shrugs, before leaving the kitchen, already completely absorbed in his tablet again. Steve holds up the little robot for a while, legs still paddling slowly through the air, before he shrugs too and sets it down on the floor. It wobbles towards the rec room, and because he can't help being a good guy, Steve opens the door for it before JARVIS calls him away. The robot seems to be fine making unsteady circles on the rec room shag carpet, so Steve lets it be and goes to save the world again.

 

* * *

 

Bruce nearly falls over, trying to get out of the way of the two small machines coming out of the Stark Tower elevator. One of them is really quite fast and zooms down the hallway like a remote controlled car on six grippy rubber wheels, leaving the other one and its four unstable pipe cleaner legs behind to bump into the edge of the elevator door three times before managing to maneuver around it.

 

“Ugh, _Tony_ ,” Bruce groans and rubs his eyes. “JARVIS, the next time Tony starts building random stuff instead of sleeping, could you sedate him? I'll make you a tranquilizer gun.”

 

“The thought had occurred to me, sir,” JARVIS says dryly.

 

“Just say the word, I can have the gun ready for you in half an hour, tops,” Bruce says as he enters the elevator. The slowest robot is just wobbling out of sight as the doors close.

 

“I'll keep that in mind, sir.”

 

 

* * *

 

“What is that _noise_?” Natasha says for the third time, squinting at Clint as if he's doing it on purpose somehow.

 

“I dunno, Nat, why don't you go find out instead of pointing fingers?”

 

She pinches him in the ribs hard enough for his eyes to tear up from the shock to his nerve endings, and he winches and curses as she drops to the rec-room floor to look under the plush couch.

 

“Clint, move,” she commands, and because Clint likes his junk the way it is, he does.

 

As soon as he's up, she wedges her elbow under the edge of the couch, lifting it just enough to ease out the palm-sized robot apparently stuck underneath it. It's a strange little thing made from caterpillar tracks and what looks like half the innards of a mobile phone. It waves happy antennas at Natasha as she puts it down to let it wheel onwards, almost toppling over driving its tiny tank tracks across the messy shag.

 

“I'm not even gonna ask,” Clint sighs and sits down so they can continue watching The Princess Bride.

 

* * *

 

“I wasn't gonna ask,” Coulson says slowly, “but I think I might have to at this point. What's with the robots?”

 

Everyone turns to Tony who holds up his palms innocently as no less than three tiny bug-robots hop, waddle and roll across Coulson's file folder of the Avengers' latest mission.

 

“I swear to God, I don't know where they came from. I sort of assumed that I'd built them in my sleep, but I haven't slept since Wednesday, so that can't be it.” He smiles indulgently as a fourth robot crawls across his foot and picks it up. “They're kinda brilliant, actually. I mean, not _my_ current level of brilliant, but definitely something I could've made. When I was like... six.”

 

“Are you telling me you don't know where these come from, or who made them, or what they're here for?” Coulson asks dangerously, but Tony waves him off. “They're harmless. No methods of communication or information gathering. As far as I can tell, all they can do is move independently. Besides, JARVIS would have picked up any signals they'd be sending out, right?” he adds to the ceiling.

 

“They do seem to be sending out a low frequency signal, but it's very short range, sir.”

 

Tony's eyebrows jump up to meet his hairline. “And you didn't think this was worth mentioning? Are you getting sick? Do I need to poke you with pointy tools?”

 

“That won't be necessary, sir. I assure you, there's no danger,” JARVIS explains, sounding almost apologetic. Enough so that Tony is perfectly mollified.

 

“Oh. Maybe I did build them in my sleep weeks ago and they just didn't get here until now. They do move kinda slow. I should totally upgrade them,” he says, as if treating an army of tiny robots like cute kittens is something everyone would do.

 

“I don't care where they came from. If they're sending out signals of any kind at the Avengers headquarters I want them all rounded up and contained, if not deactivated,” Coulson says firmly.

 

Tony sends Coulson a look of undisguised horror at the thought, making him roll his eyes. “If you're so concerned, then _you_ find out where they're coming from and deal with it before your next mission.” He closes his file folder with a little more force than necessary and strides out of the room. Clint pats Tony on the shoulder as he passes. “Don't worry about it, he's a little stressed out these days. I'm gonna go pencil in a couple of blowjobs in his dayplanner.”

 

Steve clears his throat, still having a hard time dealing with the openness about sex among the members of his team, though Tony knows for a fact he has no such reservations in private. “Need help rounding them up?”

 

“Nah, JARVIS can find them for me.”

 

“Sir, you might consider accepting that offer. At my current count, there are 83 free-roaming robots currently on the premises,” JARVIS pipes up.

 

Tony almost drops the tiny 3-wheeled bug in his hands. “Are you kidding me?! Where the hell are they coming from?”

 

It takes JARVIS a worryingly long time to answer, and when he finally does he sounds oddly hesitant. “It's not really my information to give, sir.”

 

“If you're trying to develop that sense of humor we talked about, then this is totally not the right time. All information in _my_ house is _my_ information, dumbass!”

 

“My apologies, sir, but this information is not.”

 

“Then whose information is it, then?!” Tony barks.

 

* * *

 

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” Tony groans five minutes later as he looks around his workshop in despair. Every surface is littered with tiny parts. Wires, wheels, nuts and bolts, screwdrivers, batteries and most tellingly, transistors. “I leave for a three day mission, and this is what I come home to?!”

 

Steve tries and fails not to smirk. “You might need to have a talk with the kids about the _no parties_ rule.”

 

As if on cue, U rolls into view, dumping a whole drawer of batteries on the table, DUM-E close on its heels with one of Tony's many boxes of _various parts I might need at some point_.

 

“Hey!” Tony yells. “What the hell do you guys think you're doing?!” U turns to snap its pincer-tool at Tony before joining DUM-E at the worktable again. Tony looks like he really wants to keep yelling, but he deflates in reluctant fascination as the robots work together to create another little bug, this time built from the remains of an old CD-player.

 

“JARVIS,” Tony mumbles. “What are they doing?”

 

“They expressed a desire to emulate you, sir. You create. They wanted to do the same.” There was a pause which Tony spent picking his jaw off the floor. “I may have assisted them in finding a template for their aspirations,” JARVIS added.

 

“So what you're saying is.... my robots... are making robots.”

 

Steve finally cracks and sputters out a chuckle. “Maybe the _no parties_ talk wasn't the one they needed... _grandpa_.”

 

“I'm being punked, aren't I?” Tony says weakly. “Any minute now, someone's gonna jump out and announce that I'm the latest victim of _Fake Teen Robot Knock-ups_.”

 

“To be fair, U is twenty-two years old, sir.”

  
“You just shut your trap, JARVIS! This is at least partly your fault!”

 

“You are right, of course, sir, and I will accept any punishment you see fit.” The words might have sounded meek, but Steve knew JARVIS well enough now to realize that he was using his flattest and least emotional voice, and he wondered if it was a computer version of being passive aggressive. Steve wouldn't be the least bit surprised. “But, sir, you should consider that DUM-E and U meant no harm, and that imitation is considered the highest form of flattery.”

 

“Really, JARVIS. Really? That's what you're going with?”

 

“Flattery has been known to influence you in the past, sir.”

 

“He's got a point,” Steve interjects, smirking when Tony sputters.

 

“Excuse you, I am not swayed by hollow compliments!”

 

Steve bumps Tony's shoulder and winks at him. “Nothing hollow about mine.” It's very gratifying how Tony gapes for a moment.

 

“Right,” Tony says firmly. “New house rules! No robot baby making without parental supervision! You wipe that grin off your face, Steve, I don't appreciate your deviant innuendo. In the future all robots are confined to the lab, and for the love of God, if you're _gonna_ make robots, why not make _good_ robots?!”

 

And just like that Tony starts pulling up blueprints and ideas for various robotic parts and AI programs, letting U and DUM-E pick which ones to work with. Steve smiles and shakes his head before leaving the lab. Someone's gonna have to round up the tiny robots, and Tony is obviously having some quality time with family. Steve is the last person to deny him that.

 

 _Tee_ is activated two months later. U and DUM-E both insisted on wanting it to be named Tony, and Tony would never admit it, but Steve saw his eyes go moist. But having a robot named Tony running around is just too weird, so Tee it is. The lab is overflowing with robots of all shapes and sizes. Tony starts talking about expanding the sub-level. Steve has never seen him happier.

 

 

End.

 


End file.
